Trafika Europe 13 - Russian Ballet

Judeophile

stood completely stunned and frozen beside the book case. Lena was helping him undress. “So the congress is over already?” “I had enough of them. So I vamoosed before they got me really drunk. The Russian officer corps! Oh, brother, dear lord! I’ll keep quiet, no more out of me. It’s OK, it’s OK, I’ll do it for myself… Why don’t you go make us some tea,” he broke the awkward pause. “And meanwhile, my friend and I... Please sit down,” he turned his attention to me and removed a small vase with bonbons from the cupboard. “Please have some.” “No, thank you.” “Could it be that you don’t like sweets?” “No, not especially,” I lied. “And I simply love them. Alright, then...” He took out a triangular decanter containing a cherry colored liquid and tapped on it with his fingernail, “how about a little tonic?” “Thank you, but no thanks.” “It’s a liqueur! Our own family make, from our dacha plot! Perhaps half a shot?” “Well,” I clammed up, smiling. “If it’s just a half.” “Yes-yes.” He took off his military jacket, thinking to hang it on the chair, but then reconsidered and carried it off to

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